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Thread: vel's story

  1. #1
    Member velveeta's Avatar
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    Default vel's story

    i hope you all don't mind, but the stories you guys have posted for roleplay got me thinking. even tho i am not an orderite, i pray you will allow me to post this here. it was fun to write and i hope it is fun to read......


    The sky was like the dander splashed coat of a freshly brushed black cat. The moon was large and the stars cast shadows as the grizzled old sslik took his nightly constitutional. After so many years as a warrior and a healer, battling the withered aegis who always threatened to overrun the land he holds so dear, he didn't even have a mate or children to show for his heroism. True, his tribe welcomed him as the elder and as the protective benefactor his deeds had prepared him to be – but at the end of his constitutional, his abode would be as empty as his heart.
    In the midst of his musing, some sense of danger, some leftover intuition caused him to raise his head and listen closer to the sounds of the night. That howling – no wolves came this far into the jungle! And no spider made that harsh barking sound – that was the cry of the undead minions that the WA used as shock troops!
    The old sslik broke into a run, heading for the sounds. As he draws closer, he hears the frightened purring prayers of a saris. Although it had been many years, the old warrior well remembered his feline friends, and realized that the female prayers were for protection – not for herself, but for the small bundle the sslik was in time to see the very young saris stash quickly into a hollow in a tree as high as she could reach. The young female had only enough time to place the bundle relatively securely before turning to the horde of skeletal dog-like creatures that surrounded her.
    The sslik tried to put on more speed while hastily running thru some spells he could use that would not harm the saris, but arrived in time to see the young female pulled under the swarming pack. A rain of bright blood fell on the sslik as he waded in with sword and spell – but the old fighter knew is was more a sign of ending than of rescue.
    After what seemed like hours, but was probably only 15 or 20 minutes, most of the skeletal wolves were dead, once again. However, the sslik was worried about the safety of his village – at least 2 of the pack had escaped and the WA would know about this new inhabited area within days.
    Turning to the ruin that was left of the young saris, the sslik instantly recognized his healing skill would be pointless. It was impossible to even know the species of the battle wrack seeping into the jungle floor. What fur was left unshredded was so bloodstained, the color was all the shade of drying blood in the dark. The old sslik could not even recognize enough to tell if he knew the child from one of the saris villages a day's run away. Whatever weapon the female had used was gone, and the only thing miraculously untouched was the gold and lapis lazuli headpiece. The old sslik leaned in to claim it as the birthright of her kin, and was startled by the starlight gleaming off two emeralds. Somehow, small shreds of life still clung to the almost dead female.
    "Little Velveeta…..so like her father…..only one….could save…..my babies……." The old fighter looked up to the bundle in the tree. As he did so, he heard a long drawn purr and felt the sudden relaxation and lightening of a body that has lost the will that drives it.
    Muttering a prayer to Merrasat to keep the young female under her care in the afterlife and to save her the fate of becoming WA, the old sslik gently removed the headpiece and reached up into the tree to check the bundle. Opening the blood and sweat stained blanket wrapping the squirming form, he almost dropped it as 2 tiny claws whipped out and latched onto his hand, all ferocious and ineffective. He recovered and continued, until he revealed a black striped white coated face, everything small, small, small – his years with saris told him this kitten was the runt of the litter. But something told him she would be stocky as well, and strong. Small and compact, he could almost carry her in one hand. He placed the headpiece carefully into the blanket and headed back to his village, to warn them that the WA would soon be here.
    And the old fighter proved to be correct. The day after the village learned that 4 saris villages had been slaughtered to the youngest kitten, a contingent of WA came to test the strength of the sslik. Under the old sslik's guidance, the villagers won the day, but an infant sslik was left orphaned when his parent died defending. The old sslik took in the child, and raised both the saris and the orphan as brother and sister.
    Both children seemed to take to the warrior lifestyle, and the old sslik taught them both what they would learn. Velveeta, the saris female, was much like her people – she enjoyed hunting and playing in equal measure, and would suffer nothing less than the highest luxurious quality in goods. She was lazy and sensual, but loyal and loving and when needed, she would work hard without complaint. Her brother, Snake Eyes, was strong and capable, willing to be taught and to learn and to be social. He enjoyed making things, and talking to the beings that found their way to the isolated village. People often preferred the sslik to the saris, as Velveeta was egotistical and vain when Snake was grateful and accommodating.
    The old sslik, being Gifted, realized that, after many years and much too soon, the time had come to set the foundlings on the path. Many times over the years, the children had been tested and the old fighter was sure they were Gifted as well, but only the true test would prove it. Having always been honest with the orphans, he was so now – he told them it was time to go out into the world. One last journey would they take together.
    The journey was uneventful and within a few days, the sslik led the children a large portal.
    "Today, my beloved children, you must make a life for yourself. Step thru this port and you will embark on a new way to be. Seek out my old friend, Stewart Pratt on New Trismus. He will give you tests to perform. Complete them well, as I know you will. One day, when you are old and tired like me, you can come back and we will once again share food. You can tell me the tales of your life and I will be even more proud of you! Try to stay together, somehow, and always remember you are kith and kin!" The old embraced the younglings in turn and kissed their heads, bestowing his blessing and hoping it would help.
    Velveeta rubbed her cheek against him in that purring way he knew he would miss, her flashing emerald eyes smiling as she adjusted her mother's headpiece. She strode confidently and happily to the port, turning to wait for her brother as Snake warrior clasped his foster parent's arm. Silently promising to keep an eye on his clueless sibling, the young sslik turned from the wet eyes of his foster parent and took his sister's hand. With one last look at the being that was, in some very important ways, their ***, the two stepped thru the port and into Blight history.
    you can't cast a play in hell and expect angels as actors
    All your hours are wings that beat through space from self to self.
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  2. #2

    Default Re: vel's story

    Very nice! Loved the opening line. ;-)
    Klaus Wulfenbach
    Mithril Council, Chaos
    "Death is fleeting. Pride is forever."


    "Let us have faith that right makes might, and in that faith, let us, to the end, dare to do our duty as we understand it."-- Abraham Lincoln

  3. #3

    Default Re: vel's story

    oh VEEERY nice.

    *you hear whispered voices in the dark* 'come baaaack. Come baaaack to Order. Wee will take you. Comme baaaack.'

    "You see an Ice Wall Corner, I see a Tardis."
    Arzel Rashemi - 100 Mage / 100 Warrior / 100 Battlemage / 100 Cleric / 93 Monk


  4. #4

    Default Re: vel's story

    That is so nice- when I read it, I had pictures in my mind- as if it were a film

  5. #5

    Default Re: vel's story

    oh?
    I like this!!!

    good work!

    *ponders on a plan to steal vel to Order*

    very well done!

    Ri'ta'ra'thi Is'mi'nei: Season 100 ADV/100 CRA/100 BLK(former)/40 LSH/ 419 million hoard

  6. #6
    Member velveeta's Avatar
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    Default rather than start a new thread.......

    THE MEMOIRS OF A DIVA


    I prefer LionFace StarPaw. My slaves call me by many little endearments, although my 'official' name is Cairo, but I think LionFace StarPaw is the most descriptive. My silky black mane surrounds my perfect head with no less luxuriousness than that of my larger brothers. The same long fur sprouts between my toes, giving the impression that I tread on dark stars that rise up to create a living, moving constellation.

    I came to live with my slaves when I was very young. All my life, the female slave has been the caretaker, the male slave a pawn, a toy to play with like a feather on a string. The male can be manipulated and controlled. I voice plaintively and gaze intently with my topaz eyes and he melts to my every whim.

    The problem, he doesn't know where the good stuff is. The female is in charge of food, catnip, and treats. He must always go to her to get the things I desire! And the female is made of harder stuff than he.

    The female adores me as well, to the point of wanting to keep me well and healthy. All my cries and pleading eyes rarely provide reward. It is easy to get her attention and show her what I wish; it's much harder to get that wish fulfilled!

    There were 2 others like me when I first came to live here. They were old and set in their ways, and my female slave loved them very much. The old king and queen liked nothing more than to lay in the sun and talk of their golden days – so very boring for one of my youth! I liked to ambush them as they ambled to their favorite lounging area and nip them on the neck. The old king was lazy and would do nothing more than wait until I finished and continue to his rest. The old queen, however, she was a scrapper! She was always ready for a fight and I was happy to give her one!

    It had been a long time since my female slave had youth to look after, and I took delight in frightening her. I remember once (when I was still small enough to slip by unnoticed and new enough to the household that my female slave forgot to check my location) when she believed she had picked me up with a load of laundry and put me in the washer. I hid behind the machine and watched as, ever more frantic, she searched the machine, eventually taking out the wet items and shaking them out one by one, growing more afraid with each empty soaking article of clothing. I finally took pity when she began to cry hysterically while attacking the dryer and came out laughing. It was a very long time before I was allowed in the lower rooms again after that.

    I was just coming into the knowledge of my regalness when the old queen became ill. She grew a large growth on the side of her jaw and drooled blood. The female slave took her to the doctor one day and came back crying. That was the first time I noticed the travel box. The travel box never means any good. I had not yet been in the travel box at the time, but even then, I realized it was not a good omen. The old queen came back that day, but a few days later, still crying, the female slave bundled her up into the travel box and this time, the old queen did not come back with the crying slave, and I never saw the old queen again.

    A year after that, the old king began to show his age. He no longer cared to take even the most basic care of himself, forcing the female slave to comb and cut out mats, sometimes causing him pain. He would eat only one type of food and little of that. First one day, then two, could go by before he would rouse himself to the catbox.

    My female slave must have realized the end had come after the old king spent 2 days crying with a strange call he had never used before and hiding in dark corners of the house. Out came the travel box and once again, my female slave came home crying and with an empty travel box.

    Some time after that, a once in a lifetime (at least, my lifetime) occurrence happened! My female slave left with an empty travel box and returned with it full! I had just become accustomed to having the house and both my slaves' affection to myself when my accursed female slave welcomed 2 intruders to my domain!

    The young queen was small, almost tiny. She had (and still has) only half a nose and very long toes. The new king was large and apparently quite hale, although very quiet. He did not speak much and was very softspoken when he did. I tried my best to intimidate them from the start, but the king was not very bright and didn't understand intimidation, and the queen was just as ready to scrap as I had been at her age.

    I was forced to share my affections and demands on my slaves yet again. For many weeks I refused to associate with either of the newcomers, but eventually I developed an uneasy truce with the queen. I could never abide the king, tho – he was always hungry and if one did not finish one's food, he would be happy to eat all the leftovers, mine and the young queen's too!

    One night, the king did not wish to eat his or anyone's food. I could tell this concerned the female slave a little, but she thought it was just a brief moment when the king was not interested in food, however rare that occasion had proved to be so far. The slaves went to their rest with no thoughts of anything wrong.

    In the morning, the young king was wheezing and breathing quite heavily. The female slave was very upset, and out came the travel box. The slave and box returned later, much calmer although the young king was still having much trouble breathing.
    However, the young king was never able to breath normally, despite the medicine the female slave forced on him, and he would find the most comfortable hiding spot to heave.

    I could feel the female slave's concern grow throughout the day as the king didn't respond as she thought he would. Once again, she bundled the king into the travel box, while he made the most and loudest cries we had ever heard him utter.

    And again, the travel box returned empty and wet with tears.

    So, now I have the young queen only as companion. I enjoy her company, but of course resent the time the slaves spend with her. Sometimes I intrude, for my fair share. Most times, I just wait until I can have all the attention of one or both to myself. I try to stay healthy and whole, for fear of the travel box. I do not wish to give the female slave any reason to put me into it and cry.
    you can't cast a play in hell and expect angels as actors
    All your hours are wings that beat through space from self to self.
    ogle the menagerie:http://www.freewebs.com/velveeta/

  7. #7

    Default Re: vel's story

    *cleares throat*
    *gives a looong hug to Velveeta*

    This was very nicely written. Very empathic!
    YOU told me to play a dragon!

  8. #8

    Default Re: vel's story

    Wow, Vel. Not much leaves me speechless (alas). That did.



    ((NO, you may NOT steal her, Order peoples. Blight needs our Queen.))

  9. #9

    Default Re: vel's story

    Well written Vel.
    Lunus Ancient Dragon - 100 Adv. 100 Craft. 100 Lair. 49 CrystalShaper
    Feel free to add me on Facebook: silithusz@gmail.com

  10. #10

    Default Re: vel's story

    (aww... too bad then Aine, maybe we can convince her then, instead of stealing her)

    Very good, I quite enjoy reading these

    Ri'ta'ra'thi Is'mi'nei: Season 100 ADV/100 CRA/100 BLK(former)/40 LSH/ 419 million hoard

  11. #11

    Default Re: vel's story

    Impressive as always, dear velveeta !

    »• Adventurer 100 | Crafter 100 | Lairshaper 100 | 100 Million Hoard | Expert Dragoncrafter | Expert Lairshaper •«

  12. #12

    Default Re: vel's story

    Oooh, well written (both stories)! I love that you posted the pictures of the diva, kings & queens under the pictures of pets - what amazing green eyes the young king has!

    ((NO, you may NOT steal her, Order peoples. Blight needs our Queen.))
    well aine she's had you long enough, i think it'd be a fair trade for her to join us as long!

  13. #13
    Member velveeta's Avatar
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    Default mw's story

    I remember being cold. That's the clearest memory. There were voices and sounds I now recognize as battle noises, and I remember being shaken so hard I bruised a wing against the side of my egg, but the clearest memory is of being warm, then suddenly – I am cold, so cold.
    When I was warm, my mother would sing to me lullabyes of the glory of our race. I nestled in my shell, comforted by the melody of greatness, the harmony of hopes to be gifted, like the wonderous ancestors who fought and fought and did not fall.
    My mother sang to me her dreams that I might be gifted – long are the lives of dragons, but without the gift, even we must pass. Our family had been without gifted in our line for many generations. My parents were old – though bonded for centuries, my mother and father had never before produced an egg. I was their last hope for offspring, much less a gifted one.
    I found great pleasure in the warmth and grace of my mother, and although I was past time to enter the world, I remained in my egg. How could the wide world be as sweet as life in my tiny space? My father would bring her food so she did not have to hunt. Tenderly, he would drop his offerings in front of her, asking her in a voice booming with love if it was sufficient. Even thru my shell, I could feel the flush of heat my mother always experienced at the sound of his voice.
    Thus I spent my babyhood, cocooned in love and nourished with tender care.
    Until they came. They brought the cold with them, of course. Waves and waves of chill covered my shell after the sudden loss of my mother's warmth. I heard her scream in rage and fear, yelling out battle words I had never imagined my gentle mother would even know. I did not know what those words meant at that time.

    Long after the last horrible scream had faded, I still waited for my mother's warmth to return. How many days passed, I do not know. But I had long since consumed the egg's foodstores and the initial cold had faded to a dull but unrelieved chill. The bruise on my wing had stopped hurting. Cautiously, I scratched my soft claws against the greenish grey shell. The sound was one I had not heard before and it startled me. I waited for an answer, any answer – but none came. I tapped louder. Again, no answer from the other side of my sanctuary.

    Afraid to leave but scared to stay, I pushed my body against the shell. I was large and there was no more room to move, but I kept imagining myself expanding and expanding, using all my strength and will to break my once haven, now prison. Just as I was at my strength's end, I heard a sharp snap, and one wing burst out, scraping my delicate membranes against the thorny edge. Once the hole was made, it was a simple matter to break enough of the egg to tumble out.

    But I immediately wished I had stayed in the egg. My mother greeted me at my emergence, but not the way either of us had wished.

    She had fallen protecting me. My first sight was the remains of her great back and tail. Her tail had curled around the egg, forming a wall to barricade the vicious attackers. Enough of her flesh remained to show the numerous cuts and burns that scored her. Even the bones of her back showed the depth and breadth of the assault she had endured.
    Circling the death of love, what I saw would have caused me to be ill, if I had food in me. No tissues were left to hold the bones of my mother together. It was as if some great hand had scooped up all her flesh, leaving a perfectly clean skeleton.
    Of my father, I saw no sign. To this day, I believe he fell defending my mother and me – perhaps he saw the attackers coming and met them in his hunting ground.
    My grief and despair overcame me and I could only express it by laying down next to my mother's body and nudging her, trying to get her to sing to me. Yes, rationally, I knew she would never voice to me again – but a child knows only that mother is the name for god………

    This was how the saris and sslik found me. I could hardly move when I heard the sounds echoing thru the caves my parents had called home. I lifted my head as the sounds came closer, and I hoped it was whoever had killed my parents returning to finish their work.
    I watched as the smallish saris female, clad in green armour and carrying a large warhammer and shield motioned to the tall sslik in brownish armour to circle around the large skeleton. They did not yet see me, or rather, they thought I was merely part of the remains.
    "We are too late," I heard the saris call out, as if that was not obvious.
    "If only we had sighted that blight anchor a week earlier. Maybe we would have been able to help fight off the Withered Aegis." replied the sslik, using his large maul to poke my mother's hind leg.
    Even in my weakened state, I could not let this insult to my mother go unanswered. I scrambled to pull my legs up underneath me and struggled to my feet. It took me so long that the pair had plenty of time to prepare for battle.
    Of course, as soon as I got to my feet, weakness overtook me and I pitched forward, bashing my snout against the cave floor.
    "O Snake! The poor thing can hardly move! It must be starving!" the green lady exclaimed.
    "Come on, let's go bag a couple deer and hurry back!"

    I must have fallen asleep, because I remember dreaming of my mother. I heard her voice singing to me once again, only it was different and the song was about a naughty saris and her wild adventures. But I was warm again, and there was a smell in the air that made my tight, empty stomach heave and grumble. Sluggishly, I opened my eyes to see two large animals, unmoving as my mother, leaking red fluid all over the cave floor. From them was emanating the tantalizing odor. There was another smell, this one coming from the large crackling flames the pair had set near the entrance of the cave. There, a smaller animal was being slowly rotated and turning brown.

    The green lady came into view from the cave mouth. Slowly, she came up to me, holding out her hands in front of her to show she did not have the hammer in hand.

    "Hello. My name is Velveeta. Can you talk?"
    I could barely summon the strength to move my head.
    "Okay, no problem! Can you feed yourself? Probably not, huh? Times like this, I wish I carried a sword!! No matter, it will probably be easier on you to be fed pieces anyway."
    The green lady called to the sslik and introduced him as Snake. Together, they began to cut large pieces off the dead animals, which they called deer, stacking them up in a pile.

    Once there was enough food, the green lady approached me and explained that she was going to feed me, and asked me not to bite her. For some reason, the pair seemed to find this remark funny, but I was too busy gobbling down meat to try to understand what about it was so.
    After feeding me, they declared their own meal ready and began to carve meat off the animal they called a sheep. The smell made my stomach rumble again, so the pair offered the rest of it to me. My first meal must have given me my strength back, as I quickly gained my feet and needed no help to snap up what was left in two bites.

    The green lady explained that the pair would spend the night in the cave with me, and that I was welcome to leave in the morning with them. I wished I could speak then, to tell her my story and ask what I should do – but I could only gaze at them, trying to project my thoughts to them by sheer will.

    Soon enough, the morning came and the pair roused themselves. They had saved a few scraps of meat for their breakfast and quickly, the green lady announced it was time to go.
    "So, are you ready to go? We will make sure to mark this cave and report to the council. We should take you to them as well – they will know what to do about you!" Velveeta told me.

    As we left the only home I knew, I stopped only to take one of my mother's claws, caked black with the residue of what Snake and Velveeta called the Withered Aegis. Snake fashioned it into a pendant using a leather strap to fix it on my neck. We stepped out into the light of day, the first I had ever seen.

    "Well, hatchling, you need a name! Do you have one? No? Your parents picked a lovely spot to make their home – this patch of forest is known as the Mourning Wood. It sounds somehow appropriate, doesn't it? What do you think? Have no fear, Mourn – we will have plenty of time to teach you some basic words while getting to Dralk and you can tell us yourself what you prefer!"


    Eventually, the pair did teach me to talk and did take me to Dralk – and from there, into the wide world. After many more adventures, the green lady became the Cheese Queen of Blight and Snake, her devoted consort and advisor. I chose to become Velveeta's ward, accepting her protection and assistance when Steward Pratt refused to reward me with my gifted emblem after I had completed the trials. Like gifted, I cannot die – but I am not recognized as gifted. Velveeta and Snake continue to fight to get me the recognition they think I am due, but I am content, knowing that I have become the fulfillment of my parents' hopes and the guardian of their dreams.
    you can't cast a play in hell and expect angels as actors
    All your hours are wings that beat through space from self to self.
    ogle the menagerie:http://www.freewebs.com/velveeta/

  14. #14

    Default Re: mw's story

    wowsers, another great story :-)

  15. #15

    Default Re: mw's story

    That was quite good, very well written indeed ^^

    Ri'ta'ra'thi Is'mi'nei: Season 100 ADV/100 CRA/100 BLK(former)/40 LSH/ 419 million hoard

  16. #16
    Member velveeta's Avatar
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    Default Re: vel's story

    i know it is narcissistic, but is it wrong that lately i have been rereading my stories in admiration?
    you can't cast a play in hell and expect angels as actors
    All your hours are wings that beat through space from self to self.
    ogle the menagerie:http://www.freewebs.com/velveeta/

  17. #17
    Member Sigi's Avatar
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    Default Re: vel's story

    Quote Originally Posted by velveeta View Post
    i know it is narcissistic, but is it wrong that lately i have been rereading my stories in admiration?
    lol, no, these stories deserve to be reread in admiration

    Hurray! Mor
    rison is back at his house near Bristugo!
    And the wisps on wis
    p isle are moving again!
    If you can't see 'em, you know you've got proper invisible runes.


  18. #18
    Member velveeta's Avatar
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    Default a rl story about the idiot behind the queen.....posted to my livejournal page....

    nuttin worse than an old stoner with alzheimer's....
    so i got this new fancy phone, i believe i told you....and you need to know that the purse i carry has this lil pocket on the shoulder strap that i use to carry my sirius radio unit....

    so my bro leaves this morning for his 2 week vaca to north dakota (long way to go for a piece, i know and think...), so i been taking the opportunity to clean his stinky smelly pit of a room. this entails a lot of drudging up and down the stairs from his room to the laundry room. somewhere along the way, i did something to my arthritic knee.
    i try to stand the pain - so bad i am literally crying from it - until i can't anymore and decide that since i have to go to kroger's anyway, i will go now and get some aspercreme or some such for the pain. as i pull into the parking lot i am talking to my mom on the swanky new phone and listening to howard stern on my sirius radio unit.
    i get off the phone and head into kroger's doing my shopping and stopping at the pharmacy for some pain relief advice. i pay and head out to the truck, only to find my phone missing.
    still in pain i return to the store and search the areas i was at and the peeps baskets, hoping maybe someone picked it up and hadn't turn it in yet. no go. i go the pharmacy and the customer service desk, no one has turned one in.
    still still in pain, i head across michigan ave to the sprint store to announce my loss. of course the sprint store is full and i have to stand around for about 20 minutes before a rep can help me. she tells me 'o, you need to use one of the free phones to call customer service to tell them about it'. wish the guy taking our names for service could have told me that......
    i call cs and tell them the story and they cut the service to my phone. i head off to my mom's so i can call snake and tell him i just lost a new phone with about $60 worth of extras - sure to ruin the first vaca he has had in years.....

    i am heading down mich brooding about my painful knee and how i am gonna tell snake the news, when i look over at my purse and see a black and silver unit (that looks like my sirius unit in the pocket) in the pocket - but it can't be the sirius, because i am listening to it and indeed, never took it out of the reciever at any store......

    yeap, you guessed it - i had put my phone in the pocket i store my sirius unit in and had thought that the phone was it.......

    so now i had to go to my mom's and explain why i needed her phone to call the sprint peeps and reactivate my phone........


    and snake got a biiiggggg kik out of the story, too.......
    you can't cast a play in hell and expect angels as actors
    All your hours are wings that beat through space from self to self.
    ogle the menagerie:http://www.freewebs.com/velveeta/

  19. #19

    Default Re: a rl story about the idiot behind the queen.....posted to my livejournal page....

    Well.. that story is lots less nice to read. but i wish to congratulate you for the others...

    I'm soon to start my own line of posts. I hope i'd do as well

  20. #20
    Member velveeta's Avatar
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    Default derexx's story

    Yes, yes, I know – everyone thinks satyrs spend the days in frolic and carnal pleasure, cavorting and swilling and indulging in joy for every breath. Blame not the bearer for the bad news, my friend.


    I am surrounded by damp and dark and din. I am covered in wet stickiness that smells of copper and terror. The clarity of time has convinced me the noise was the wind in the trees and the animal rustling of the underbrush – not the screams of the dying people and the movement of assassins thru the woods of my home. The combination of stenches assaulting my nose makes me want to sneeze, but the voices in my head beg me not to. The feminine one pleads for me to stay small, stay hidden; the masculine one tells me to be silent and make no move. The more desperate I am to flee this place and find a measure of peace, the more desperately the voices entreat me to remain.

    Eventually the last breeze blows, the last animal settles, and the terrible green sky turns to a bright, deceptively comforting blue and gold. The voices lose their sharp edge and turn soft, lulling me to sleep, still curled like a fetus in the womb within the gloom of my hiding place.


    The day passed to night and back to day again before I awoke. The horrible smell still resonated, but the quiet seemed like a comfortable blanket I was reluctant to disturb. But hunger and the voices urged me to climb out, be reborn into whatever new world awaited me. I seemed to be buried in a tiny hollow formed when a tree fell and rotted from the inside out. Where the disintegrating bark met the receptive soil, the ground was soft and easy to dig thru. After several minutes, I released myself from my underground womb. In the light of day, the scene before me looked hazy, like the aftermath of a nightmare. All the people I had known, friend and acquaintance and kin, lay strewn about the village like clothes blown from the line in a summer storm. Pieces of flesh, discolored from advanced decay, and clean bones dropped like hints littered the ground, glowing a sickly green that cast a vicious tint on the remains of satyrs.


    My grief caused me to sink slowly, my blood soaked garments cracking and popping and impeding my descent. My cries drowned out the voices in my head – or perhaps mingled with them.


    All things end, and grief is a thing. The will to survive began to exert control over my survivor’s guilt, and the voices began to make themselves heard again. The female voice was concerned with food and clean clothes, and began to demand I find something to eat to regain my strength. The male urged me to seek arms to defend myself from future attack, and to make my way to a town for help. My head rebelled, but my hunger combined with the voices compelled me to pretend not to see the things I had to move aside in my searching. By the time I finished, night was almost ready to fall, and my voices urged me to hide again and rest for the coming day.


    The voices woke me several hours before daybreak, advising me that it would be easier to see the green sky that always hovered over the enemy in the darkness. Cautiously, I crept toward an imperial road that led to the next nearest town. Far off, I could see a green glow, making a path of horror to lead death on. It seemed to be heading to a little explored edge of the world, far from the wholesomeness I once knew.


    As dawn began, I found the road. I knew it led to the portal city of Bristugo, and from there, I determined to make my way to the palace of the queen; our village was remote, even by satyr standards, and news could not have travelled much faster than I, even if any others had survived the attack.


    On my way, I told all I met about the attack, and was told my enemy was known as the Withered Aegis, a collection and coalition of undead monstrosities constantly terrorizing the realm. Always do they seek to extinguish life and undo the beauty of Istaria.


    Thankfully, I found shelter and comfort with those I met on my journey, and made Bristugo in less than 2 days. Eager for audience, I immediately took the port to the queen’s compound, and requested an urgent meeting. The queen listened intently to my story, and expressed her sympathies for my terrible losses. Muttering aloud to herself, she talked about needing assistance from the other realms. Suddenly, she turned again to me and asked me if I would be willing to become an envoy to the realm of order, become a voice to carry her desires for cooperation to defeat our common foe. With the last few days’ events still fresh in my mind, I made the impulsive decision to accept the queen’s offer. There was no more home or family for me in Blight, and whatever small thing I could do to help defeat the WA had become my life. The voices in my head chimed together in agreement.

    And so, the queen outfitted me as best she could, considering I would be starting from scratch in my new home. The queen provided me with letters of recommendation and a list of names – people of order already friends with those of Blight. They have made my transition to my new life both easy and welcome. I look forward to my continuing service to both my homes, and to our eventual victory over the dreadful foe threatening us.
    you can't cast a play in hell and expect angels as actors
    All your hours are wings that beat through space from self to self.
    ogle the menagerie:http://www.freewebs.com/velveeta/

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